my head is a disaster

Someone call FEMA.
Or better yet, don't.

My brain is on fire these days and it feels as though my brains were liquifying and boiiling. I'm so unhappy. Mainly, it's a lot of back and fourth with the thinking about things. Like a tennis match between what I want and should, can and can't do.

I'm meeting lots of difficulty in heading back to NY. The state hasn't been too bad with my RN license, the campus has been great with housing and so forth, but the anesthesia office is like a Chinese Firedrill. All chaos, all the time. No one ever seems to have the answer, all you get is steered into a wall.

Should I go back there?

There's the money issue--it's expensive. And right now, it would be harder to find a job in nursing than when I graduated. The economic slow-down (what the rest of us have been calling a cataclysmic economic disaster, the Hindenburg of recessions) has made its way to the hospital and there's not only a hiring freeze, but a cur back of hours, and overtime, and supplies and everything else you can imagine.

Especially at County Hospitals; a tightening of the fiscal belts, and doing without for now. If I leave my job, there won't be one to come back to. If I fail at school, or decide I can't do it, then there's nothing to come back to.

Communication seems to be my worst suit right now, as well. The people I want to be hearing from, I'm not, and the few people that are talking to me, I feel like I'm just screwing everything up, so I should just say as little as possible.

In some ways, it feels like I've already left.

What memories of San Francisco? What images to take back to New York with me? Everything is night time, and dark always. I just took Rutger (my dog) outside to pee, since I'm not sleeping, anyway--I might as well get up and see what I'm missing sleeping days.

The lilacs have bloomed. My garden is overgrown. There are weeds sticking out of every brick and some of them are miniature trees--three feet tall...good luck ever getting rid of those; the roots probably are a foot thick and travel down several miles to the earth's fucking core.

So what...my life has been, this year, a miserable, pleasureless year of staring at the ceiling, wishing for sleep, or, on few occasions, sleeping, or working. I've been out to dinner a couple times, had a couple sincere laughs (maybe two or three) and done nothing.

I leave for New York in under 125 days, now. I might have been better off had I never left it. At least, I might have found a job right off, and been able to go back to school in the summer, and gotten these classes out of the way.

I'm trying to be present in the moment, but it's hard when the moments are all so lonely, miserable, and all I want is out. There's so much to do, I don't know where to begin, and sometimes I wonder if it's worth the effort.

Why am I doing this, anyway?